


rules

by psychamoanix (psychamonix)



Series: reasons i'm going to hell [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Friends With Benefits, Gags, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Slut Shaming, Smut, god this is like a bingo board or smthng, yes- simultaneously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychamonix/pseuds/psychamoanix
Summary: “That’s right. You belong to me. You follow my rules. And in turn, I make you feel good.”---Dream and George have an arrangement.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: reasons i'm going to hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005174
Comments: 13
Kudos: 483





	rules

**Author's Note:**

> [what Dream's bindings look like](https://www.ropeconnections.com/how-to-tie-an-armbinder/)
> 
> please keep in mind that this fic uses slut-shaming and derogatory language, as well as other consensual but possibly triggering acts/language. please check the tags and be cautious when reading!

George doesn’t know how, exactly, he always ends up in these situations. He doesn’t know if it’s something fundamentally strange about his life, or his friends, or even just _him_ , but somehow, _somehow_ , he always does. 

It’s not a bad thing- most of the time, he’d say it’s pretty damn lucky- but it certainly is...unusual, to say the least. 

In this case, specifically, he’d say that unusual is very, very good. 

A whimper draws him out of his musings, and George looks down at the boy on his knees below him. His eyes are wide, pleading, and the flush on his cheeks matches the brilliant red ball gag stuffed so prettily between his teeth. Trailing a hand absently over the boy’s hair, George smirks at the muffled whine, watching him shuffle on his knees, careful to balance without the help of his hands. 

“Be patient, Dream,” he reprimands gently, stroking his fingers through the soft locks. “You don’t want to be punished, do you?” 

Dream shakes his head almost desperately, making a soft noise of disagreement. 

“That’s right.” George says, shifting his hand to cup Dream’s face, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you, Dream?”

Shuddering slightly, Dream turns his cheek into George’s grip and nods. George clicks his tongue, thinking, his hand stalling where it holds the other boy’s face, still idly stroking over his skin. 

Making up his mind, George drops his hand, circling around to check the knots holding Dream’s arms close together. He runs a finger down the central column, then tugs on the bottom loop to check the tension, ducking his head around to watch Dream’s expressions. 

“Nod if they’re too tight,” he says, still testing the loops with one finger. Dream hesitates, shifting his arms as much as he can, then shakes his head, craning his neck to make eye contact. 

“Alright.” Stepping back around to face him, George snaps his fingers in front of Dream’s face, just to check that he’s paying attention. “Okay, Dream. Here are the rules for today.” 

Dream blinks. 

“Number one. You will not cum until I give you permission. If you do so, there will be consequences. Nod if you understand.” 

He nods.

“Number two. You will not disobey me in any way. If you go too fast, you will get one warning. A second offense will mean punishment. This also applies to your words; unless prompted, you will not speak or make any noise that I deem too loud. If you disobey me, there will be consequences. Nod if you understand.” 

Another nod. 

“Number three. You will kick or nudge me at any time if you become uncomfortable or overstimulated to the point of needing to end or pause the scene. If this happens, I will remove your gag and we will discuss what happens next. During this time, you may use your safe word, the color system, or any form of verbal nonconsent, and the scene will end or continue accordingly. You do not need to explain yourself. Nod if you understand.” 

His nods are getting a little more desperate. George revels in it, the way he can reduce Dream to this sweet thing with nothing more than a few spoken promises. 

“Number four. If you ever feel like you can’t breathe because of the gag, you will alert me. If you feel your hands or arms going numb because of the rope, you will alert me. The scene will pause or end at this point. Do not continue through serious discomfort. This is for your safety: I will not be disappointed, and you will not be punished. Nod if you understand.” 

Dream nods jerkily, actions growing rougher in his anticipation. 

“Good.” George breathes out slowly, preparing himself. “You know your safeword?”

Dream gives him a look that translates clearly to _Yes, idiot, get on with it._

“Nod or shake your head.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dream nods, overexaggerating the movement mockingly. 

George falls into the persona easily, just like he does every time. It’s like a second skin, rippling just below his own, eager and waiting for the chance to take over. 

“I don’t like that attitude, Dream.” He says, flattening his mouth into a harsh line as he lowers a hand to rest on Dream’s shoulder. The other boy leans into the touch, eyes unfocusing slightly at the sudden switch in tone. “Don’t forget who you belong to.” 

Dream lets out a noise of agreement, shuffling closer on his knees. 

Internally, George smiles. Externally, he frowns and slaps Dream across the face. 

George’s hand makes a sharp sound when it collides, drawing an audible inhale from the kneeling boy. “That’s funny, I don’t remember telling you you could make noise.” He grips Dream’s chin tightly, jerking him around until they’re making eye contact. “I know you’re a slut, but at least try to pretend.” 

He shoves Dream’s face away, watches him close his eyes and shudder through an exhale, slowly turning back to face George. It’s intoxicating, seeing him change from the back-talking, headstrong person he is in everyday life to this softer, smaller creature, content with letting George do whatever he wants. Enjoying it. Begging for more. 

It makes George want to fuck him for hours. 

(They did that once. All night into morning, until Dream was practically sobbing with it, still bound to the headboard, covered in wet and drying streaks of cum. The memory still sends a shock through George’s body.) 

He remembers it now, staring critically down at the boy on his knees, deciding what to do next. Various images flash through his mind: Dream on his back, staring up like he’s forgotten his own name; Dream with head flung back onto George’s shoulder as he jerks him off slowly; Dream, proud and stubborn, sucking cock like it’s a competition he aims on winning. 

Dream breaks him out of the reverie with a shuffle, blinking up at him, eyes already shiny, cheeks already flushed. His right cheek, the one George struck, glows brighter than the left, and George finds himself reaching out to soothe it, caressing the skin more gently than he normally would. 

“Look at you, baby,” he coos, squatting so his other hand can mold itself to the slight curve of his hip bone. He teases over the top of Dream’s boxers, the only article of clothing the other boy is still wearing, dipping his fingers under the waistband to palm over the swell of his ass. “So pretty, aren’t you? I’m so lucky to have such an eager little whore to use however I want.” 

He can tell Dream wants to be good by the way his throat clicks after that, like he’s trying to swallow back noises but can’t quite get his throat to cooperate. 

“That’s right.” He says, deliberately condescending behind the compliments. “So beautiful, so desperate for me. Practically gagging for my cock, aren’t you, Dream?” 

Dream doesn’t respond, dazed eyes just barely tracking over George’s lips, so he tries again, putting more force behind the words, a clear threat in his tone. “ _Aren’t you,_ Dream. That’s a question.” 

Nodding hard, Dream blinks rapidly, visibly trying to refocus on George’s words. 

“Good boy.” Straightening, George removes his hands from Dream’s skin. He pauses to pull off his shirt, not missing the way Dream’s eyes snap to the movement, then closes a hand around the rope handle tied into the front of Dream’s harness to pull him to his feet. Even standing a few inches taller than George, the boy looks small, shoulders caving as much as possible with the way his arms are pulled back, hair falling across his forehead to partially obscure his vision. His eyes avoid George’s- whether in deference or distraction, he can’t tell- and George makes a disapproving noise in his throat, pushing Dream down to sit on the bed. 

When that doesn’t pull a reaction, George leans in closer, forcing eye contact as he breaks character for a moment. “Okay to continue?” 

That gets Dream’s attention, and the boy’s gaze snaps back onto George’s as he nods frantically, glancing overtly at his own crotch as if George didn’t notice the bulge tenting his boxers. 

“You look a little out of it.” George says gently, resting a hand on Dream’s thigh, which jumps slightly under his hand. 

Shrugging, Dream tilts his head to one side, then the other, a clear _I guess._

“Still feel good, though?” 

He nods a few times, raising his eyebrows as if to emphasize the movement. 

“Okay. Tell me if anything changes.” 

At the second nod, George changes pace once more, the hand on Dream’s thigh tightening its grip until his fingernails dig into the skin. He just has time to see the widening of Dream’s eyes before he dives into the crook of his neck, biting down on the skin of Dream’s throat harshly and moving it between his teeth before releasing and biting again, further down. A rumble against his mouth makes him pull back, lifting his other hand to close around Dream’s neck, where his lips just were. 

“Still can’t stay quiet, can you? Is the gag not big enough?” George asks rhetorically, squeezing Dream’s neck in his grip. Not too hard, not enough to restrict his air, but just enough to warn him. “Maybe I should take it off, let you gag on my dick instead, huh? At least then your noises would be good for something other than advertising how much you can’t resist it.” 

Dream nods, staring wide-eyed up at George, who sneers back, tightening his grip even more. 

“Just can’t get enough. How fucking pathetic are you?” He moves the hand on Dream’s thigh, brushing over the bulge of his boxers teasingly before pressing the heel of his palm firmly against the wet spot decorating the front. 

“Little cumslut, can’t wait two minutes before you need something in you.” He clicks his tongue, releasing Dream’s throat to pin his hips more firmly to the bed, stopping the boy’s abortive thrusts into the pressure of his hand. “Not good for anything but being my toy, my cockwarmer, are you, Dream, only worth a fuck because you’ll take anything you can get. It’s sickening.”

Dazedly, Dream nods, breathing heavily enough for George to hear it. Relishing in the sound, George doesn’t punish the unrequested response, just increases the pressure until Dream squeaks around the gag. 

“Don’t like that, do you? You’re lucky you even get my hand, bratty as you are.” George says, even as he motions for Dream to scoot more firmly onto the bed, until the backs of his calves press tightly against the vertical edge of the mattress. “Now, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t deserve it, but I’m gracious, so I’ll let you get by.”

George pauses his speech to sink to his knees, ignoring Dream’s surprise. Sliding the boy’s boxers down, he continues. “If you can do it, you’ll be rewarded. If you can’t, there won’t be a punishment, but you won’t get the reward, either. Understand?” 

Dream nods.

“Here’s the deal. I am going to suck you off for two minutes. You will not fuck my mouth. You will not cum. You will not, in any way, try to change what I am doing, unless you need me to stop. If, at the end of the two minutes, you haven’t broken these rules, then I’ll be quick with your prep. If not, one minute of prep- and teasing- will be added for every time you disobeyed. Am I clear?”

At the nod (shaky, but there), George leans forward, raising a hand to hold Dream’s erection steady as he licks around the head, drawing the drops of precum into his mouth. The responding groan makes him pull back, biting at Dream’s thighs as he draws in a quick breath, before plunging down again, this time sucking nearly the whole shaft into his mouth as he pushes relentlessly forward. Above him, Dream cries out, muffled behind the gag, and George goes further, until his nose touches the wiry curls at the base and his throat protests. Pulling off, he spares a quick glance to their bedside clock, noting the time, before he ducks down and licks a long strike from base to head, following it up with a few pumps of his hand. 

He can see the muscles jumping in Dream’s thighs, sees his upper body squirming with effort, but the boy’s hips don’t move, and George rewards him with a hissed " _Good boy_ ” before he takes him in once again. A choked sound reaches his ears as he bobs his head, working his tongue along what he can reach, bringing a hand up to stroke Dream’s thigh, helping him through it. 

Another glance at the clock reveals less than a minute left, and George doubles his efforts, pinching Dream’s thigh at the same time he swallows around him, letting spit dribble out of the corner of his mouth as he does his absolute best to ruin Dream’s composure. 

It works. Dream moans loud enough to hear through the gag, spine curving forward until he’s practically curled around George’s head, still moving up and down. He hears a garbled sound, like Dream’s trying to say his name, and lets the cock drop out of his mouth only to kiss up and down the length, letting his tongue dart out to clean the mess of spit and precum spilling down the sides. 

George glances at the clock, tongue still lapping up and down, then licks his lips and sits back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Looking up, he sees Dream’s ruined face, eyes glazed and shiny, cheeks bright, a few strands of sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. 

“Good boy, Dream,” George praises, clearing his throat through the slight raspiness. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you. Now for your reward.” 

He stands, rummages through his bedside table for lube, then shoves Dream towards the center of the mattress, maneuvering him until he’s balancing precariously on his knees with his head pushed down into the sheets. With his arms tied behind him, there’s no other way to do it. 

Besides, he loves the way Dream’s thighs tremble as George works the first finger into him, massaging his walls and delighting in the boy’s low groan. 

After a few minutes (probably less than advised, but it hasn’t been that long since their last scene, and George promised to be quick anyway), he slicks up a second finger and presses it carefully alongside the first, spreading them apart to stretch Dream open. This time, he notices some tension in the boy’s shoulders and kisses down the row of his spine, murmuring little praises to him about how good he’s being, so pretty, such a beautiful little slut, taking his fingers so _well._ Dream reacts wonderfully, spreading his knees further and pressing his hips back, brow furrowing as if in concentration. 

The noises he makes are lovely. Hesitant, like he expects them to be punished, but still unashamedly filled with pleasure. If it was the beginning of the scene, George might tease him, maybe even enforce the ‘no speaking out of turn’ rule, but he instead catches himself fixating on the way his fingers dip in and out of Dream’s hole, mind skipping ahead. 

“So good, Dream,” he mutters. “So, so pretty; bet you can’t wait for my cock, can you?” 

Moaning, Dream moves his head against the sheets in a nod. George takes that as a sign to add another finger, stroking them in and out as his other hand dances along Dream’s restraints. Trying to ease the painful stretch, he ducks down to press kisses along the edges of the rope, where it digs into Dream’s skin slightly and turns it white. 

“Geo-” Dream chokes out, the sound distorted by the gag. 

George lifts his head to make eye contact, raising an eyebrow at Dream’s boldness. “I thought you weren’t supposed to speak out of turn, Dream. Have you forgotten the rules?”

Dream shakes his head as best as he can with his head pushed into the pillow. “Gahg.” 

“Take off your gag?” George asks, already pulling his fingers out to unbuckle the strap. His heart pounds slightly faster, rewinding the past few minutes. He thought Dream had been fine- he’d been moaning, even actively participating by pushing his hips into George’s hands, but if he needs to stop, something must have gone wrong- 

“Stop worrying,” Dream says as soon as the gag falls from his mouth. “I can see you worrying, stop it.” 

“Do you need to stop?” George asks, ignoring him. He drops his fingers to the knots along Dream’s shoulder blades, ready to undo the harness and armbind if necessary. 

“No, no, please don’t stop, I actually- I just-” Dream stutters, suddenly flustered. George tries to catch his eye, but Dream avoids his gaze, his eyes dropping almost ashamedly to the sheets. “I just wanted- please fuck me, George, I seriously can’t wait any longer, you said you’d reward me but you’re still taking so long, and I just can’t deal with it-” 

George cuts him off. “Do you need to stop? Or slow down, or whatever?” 

“ _No,_ I need you to speed up-”

“So you’re not uncomfortable, you’re just a huge fucking brat?” 

Dream blinks, mouth hanging half-open, though no words come out. 

“Dream. Answer.” George says, almost a growl, even as something like relief spills into his chest. Dream is okay. He’s just being characteristically greedy. 

“I-” Dream says, eyes darting over to George before dropping again. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Remind me, Dream. Who is in charge here?” 

Dream shuts his mouth, his teeth clicking together as he shrinks back against the sheets. 

“ _Who is in charge here?_ This is a direct question. Answer it.” 

“You,” Dream whispers. 

“That’s right. And what did I say about speaking?” 

“Speak when spoken to.” 

“So you _do_ understand, you just don’t want to obey.” George pulls his hands away from Dream, leaning back until no part of their bodies are touching. 

“No, George, I do want-” 

“You’re not acting like it.” George blows out a breath, making a show of looking disapproving. “Dream. I am in charge. You follow my rules. _Is this understood?_ ” 

“Yes.” 

“And who do you belong to?” 

“You.” 

“Perfect.” George breaks his stare to let out a sigh, ruffling Dream’s hair over his forehead. “That’s right. You belong to me. You follow my rules. And in turn, I make you feel good.” 

Dream nods, nudging his head closer into George’s touch like a cat eager for attention. George allows it for a few moments, almost petting Dream’s bangs, then pulls back. 

“Now.” He steadies his voice, returning to the stern tone from before. “If you want my cock so badly, then beg for it.”

It’s a sign of how desperately Dream _does_ want to get fucked that he does it without even a word of protest. 

“Please, George, I need it so badly, you’ve been teasing me for ages. Your mouth, your fingers are nice, but I need more, please, please, George, I want-” 

“How much do you want it?”

“So much, god, I can’t stop thinking about it, _please_ -”

“Good.” George steadies himself with a breath. “You’re such a slut, aren’t you, Dream?” 

“Yes, I am, such a slut for your cock, c’mon, George. Please fuck me, I’m your good little whore, please...” 

It’s George’s turn to almost lose it, closing his eyes to block the sight of Dream’s face, lips still wet and red from the gag, eyes desperately pleading with him, drool smeared messily across his chin. He opens his eyes again after a few seconds, staring directly at Dream. 

“Back on your knees. Now.” 

Dream scrambles to get into the position, almost slipping in his urgency, arching his back to press his hips closer to George. Shakily exhaling, George grips the bend of his hips, grinding his still-clothed erection against the slippery mess of Dream’s hole. The force bumps Dream forward, and his face rubs against the sheets, knees slipping until his chest hits the bed. 

Too aroused to take the time to completely get rid of his pants, George undoes the button and pushes them down his thighs, finally releasing his erection, which curves up to bump against his stomach. Twisted around to see, Dream lets out a shaky moan at the sight, leaning further back as if to hurry George into putting it in him.

“Ready, Dream?” George mumbles, slicking his cock with lube and lining it up at Dream’s entrance. 

“Yes, please, I- ah!” Dream cuts himself off with a gasp as George pushes in, not stopping until he’s buried all the way into Dream’s ass. If it was anyone else, he’d be worried about hurting them, but George knows Dream likes the stretch, likes being filled in one stroke, could wax poetry about the pleasure and pain of the burn. 

Even still, he waits a few moments for him to adjust, watching the way Dream’s fingers clench and unfurl, unable to grasp anything but themselves with the way they’re tied. It’s almost mesmerizing, the way he tries so hard to get any semblance of power, only to end up at the same realization: George controls everything he does. 

It sends a spike of heat through George’s stomach, and he struggles through another breath, trying to calm himself down. The periodic tightening and loosening of Dream’s hole is already more than enough to overwhelm him, the heat of his body pressing into George’s cock and pooling in the bottom of his stomach. 

“George, I’m ready, please move.” Dream whines, rocking back slightly. 

George stops him with both hands on his hips, gripping almost hard enough to bruise. “How do you ask?” 

“Can you please move, George? I’m ready.” 

“Fine.” George holds him in place, starting slow at first, just rolling his hips gently. After a few minutes, he can’t help himself, the quiet gasps and moans Dream makes and the way he squeezes around George’s cock pushing him over the edge until he’s quickening his thrusts, pounding into Dream at a pace that makes their skin slap together and bangs the headboard against the wall. George spares barely a second mentally apologizing to his neighbors, then speeds up more, his hands almost slipping on Dream’s skin as he shoves into him again and again, drawing louder and louder moans from the boy beneath him. 

“So good, so tight for me, Dream, fuck-” George pants, gritting his teeth. “Such a good little cockslut, huh? Just for me.” 

“Yes, yes, please, faster, George-” Dream sobs, dragging his face against the sheets. 

Not slowing his rhythm, George pulls him up by the throat, bracing him upright with an arm around his shoulders. “What-” he grinds out, labored breathing interspersed with words, “-did I say about telling me what to do?” 

Too far gone, Dream doesn’t reply. His arms are pinned between their bodies as he bounces in George’s lap, head sagging forward as he pants. George lets it go, reaching his other hand to curl around Dream’s dick, tugging him in time with his thrusts. 

That, at least, draws a response, albeit more of a high-pitched moan than any words. It’s followed by a stream of babbling, a mix of _George_ , _god_ , and _please_ , and George keeps going, biting down on the skin of Dream’s shoulder to keep his own noises from betraying how affected he is. 

“George-” Dream manages to choke out in a rare moment of clarity. “Gonna- fuck, gonna cum, please can I cum, please, George-” 

“What are you?” 

He doesn’t even need any prompting this time. “Your slut, George, your whore, I need you to fuck me, s’all I’m good for, m’worthless without it, _please_ let me cum-” 

“Alright.” George gasps. “Go ahead.” 

And then Dream cries out, long and wordless, and his walls are tightening so deliciously around George’s cock as he cums, strings of white spurting out over George’s fist and landing on the sheets, on Dream’s stomach, on George’s hand. 

Dream slumps forward onto the bed, and George lets him, arms too shaky to hold his dead weight up. Even as Dream falls into his own mess, George doesn’t stop, forcing his head into the pillows with a hand on the back of the boy’s neck as he whines through the overstimulation, though he doesn’t protest. 

Still pounding into him, George just barely notices the slight shaking of Dream’s shoulders and looks down in time to see the boy sniffle, a tear running down his cheek. It shocks him out of his rhythm and he stops, pulling out until his cockhead just catches on Dream’s rim. 

“Dream, are you-” 

Dream interrupts him, rubbing his face into the sheets to try and hide his tears. “It’s okay, don’t stop, I’m okay, I promise. Keep going. Please.”

Trusting him, George speeds up again, shoving himself all the way in when he feels the coil in his stomach start to unfurl. He falls over the edge with a groan, nudging impossibly deeper as he spills into Dream’s body. 

Still in the aftershocks, George pulls out, pumping his dick a few more times to streak Dream’s ass with the last few strands. He looks absolutely ruined, thighs red where George bit and pinched him, his hole fluttering slightly as cum starts to leak out and join the stuff already on his skin. 

Almost absentmindedly, George says, “We should get you a plug. Keep you this pretty all day, just waiting for me to push you down and fuck you again.”

He can tell Dream’s flushing from the strained undertone to his voice. “George, please-” 

Huffing out a laugh, George moves to undo the knots of the rope, fighting through his own drowsiness. “You’ve said that a lot today.” 

“Not my fault you’re a maniac,” Dream says, flicking his gaze back to meet George’s eyes playfully. 

“Not my fault you’re a cockslut,” George retaliates, turning him onto his side to undo the front of the harness before returning to the last few loops on the back. 

Dream pouts at him, sticking his bottom lip out like a child. “That’s not fair, George, come on.” 

“Might not be fair, but it’s true.” George says lightly, dropping the loose ropes off the side of the bed and collapsing onto the pillows beside Dream. They’ll have to clean them later, but for now they just lay in silence, slowly getting their breath back. 

Worrying at his bottom lip, George opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. “Dream, are you, like...okay? With today?” 

Flipping over, Dream meets his eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “Yeah? Why?” 

“I mean, I was a little meaner than usual.” He hesitates, then continues. “You cried.” 

Dream’s face changes in some unreadable way, but he still nods. “I did.” 

“You need to tell me if I’m doing too much, Dream. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s part of the arrangement, remember?” 

Dream stops him with a hand on his cheek. Too worried about the current conversation, George almost ( _almost_ ) doesn’t notice the half-dried cum on it. “Isn’t the arrangement that if I don’t like it, we stop?” 

“Yes, but-” 

“I liked it. Stop worrying so much, Georgie, I told you, I’m okay.” 

George bites back a reprimand at the name, simply sighing instead. “Are you sure?” 

“Aw, George, you’re so sweet.” Dream rolls over again, pressing his face into George’s neck, probably getting cum all over him. “ _Yes,_ I’m sure. Stop talking and cuddle me. 

“I need to get a washcloth to clean you off.” George protests, trying to lift his arms to push Dream off of him. “Plus, you should drink water, eat something.” 

“ _Cuddle me_ , George. It can wait.” 

George sighs, sinking back into the pillows, letting the weight of Dream’s body press him down. “You’re such an idiot, you know that, right?” 

“Love you too, George,” Dream mumbles sleepily, his exhale tickling George’s ear. 

He’s all the way asleep, snoring gently into George’s neck, when George finally replies. 

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure if it's the age of the fandom itself, or if it's because this fandom draws a lot of younger writers who are new to the fanfiction and smut scene (disclaimer: this is only my second time writing smut, but i've been around for a while), but many of the more hard-core eroticas in this tag don't include an emphasis on safewording and communication during their scenes. not saying this is wrong, or even bad writing, but...imo, safe sex should be written more, even if it's not as 'hot' or whatever. idk, just- normalize communication. if you don't trust someone, you shouldn't enter a scene with them in which you will be compromised and vulnerable. negotiate your terms before you start. 
> 
> ANYWAYS. concerned rant over. stay safe, i hope you had fun, feel free to stick around. there will be more.


End file.
